Trophy: Our World, #2

By Nancy Loyan

"Our World" is a respected news magazine, exploring issues and people who impact the world. Each novel showcases one of their award-winning journalists, as they conduct a life-altering investigation.

Journalist Quinn Morgan is investigating human and sex trafficking. Her quest leads her to a deserted Texas road, and Ebony Withers. This chance encounter changes her story, and her life.

Senator Forrest Armitage chairs a Congressional committee on human and sex trafficking. His path leads to Quinn Morgan.

All roads lead to a trophy farm, patronized by the rich and powerful; members of government, corporate and entertainment worlds. Missing are the exotic wild animals.

What they uncover can destroy their lives. Will they survive to reveal the truth?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Schuemann Enterprises LLC
• Release date: Feb 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9781736060780

Book preview

1

Quinn trembled with foreboding, as she drove through the desolate countryside. The narrow blacktop waved over hills, as her headlights pierced the pitch of night. Trees formed haunting shadows. Their menacing forms danced over the roadway. Tall barbed fencing lining her way, kept them contained. Driving a rental car, in a faraway state, in the middle of nowhere, lent her pause. She had traveled to many places, and encountered numerous frightening scenes, but something about this place made her heart burn.

Out of seemingly nowhere, a figure darted in front of her sub-compact. She stomped on the brakes, her heart lurching in her chest. In the headlights, flashed the silhouette of a person running toward her, outstretched arms flailing. Stopped, she realized it was a young woman. A wild afro formed a halo around an angular face. Dark, wide eyes, and her open mouth resembled Munch’s proverbial artwork, The Scream.

Quinn’s stomach somersaulted. She wasn’t expecting to see anyone on the dark, deserted country road. Were her leads and instincts on point? Was this woman a victim of human trafficking? Was this the evidence she was seeking?

Caught in the light, the woman turned to run. Quinn noticed her tattered jeans and sweatshirt, and bare feet.

She leaned out the open window and yelled, Stop. I won’t harm you. I promise.

The young woman froze in place, turning to face her. Don’t take me back! Don’t take me back!

Opening the car door, Quinn slipped out of her seat, and stood, meeting the woman’s wild gaze. I’m alone. You’re safe.

You won’t return me?

Quinn wondered if the woman was talking about the place where she was, possibly being held by traffickers. Take her back, where?

I … I have to get away. Far away, the woman said, a quiver in her voice.

Fear gripped Quinn, but not like that of the disheveled woman. Something deep and sinister thickened the atmosphere. She drew a deep breath for courage. I won’t take you back, where you don’t want to go.

You won’t? You promise?

I promise.

It’s dangerous out here. The woman’s gaze darted about.

Get in the car. You’ll be safe.

Normally, Quinn would never let a stranger in her car, especially in the middle of nowhere, on assignment, out of state. Yet, there was desperation in this woman’s appearance, and voice, that called for rescue. Maybe this was the lead she had been hoping for. She got back in the car, and gripped the steering wheel, to prevent her hands from shaking.

The woman hesitated, before approaching the passenger side of the car. She peered inside, as if to make sure no one else was lurking. She opened the door, and slipped into the seat. Closing the door, she immediately locked it.

Quinn pressed the accelerator. The narrow road, lined with a sentinel of trees, and sliver of moon piercing the darkness, appeared possessed. She had the pressing urge to get away.

Dim the headlights, turn around, and pray that we get to the main road, without getting stopped, the woman said, breath heavy with fear, as her gaze darted about, as if looking for someone in pursuit.

Quinn obeyed, not questioning. Her body tensed. They sat in silence, until turning on to the paved two-lane, main road. Once on the road, the atmosphere changed. The air inside the car seemed to be less heavy and stifling.

What happened to you? Quinn asked. Who, or what are you running away from?

You don’t know? You don’t know what goes on around here? the woman answered. She kept turning her head, as if looking for someone, or something.

Know what?

The woman stared a hole through her, that made her heart skip a beat. Why were you out on that road? It’s not the safest place to get lost.

I’m Quinn Morgan, a journalist investigating a human trafficking ring. Clues led me here. Are you a victim?

The woman scoffed. It’s human trafficking, all right, but much more. I’m Ebony Withers, and I was kidnapped.

Quinn had the urge to pull over, jam on the brakes, and talk. She had more questions that begged for answers. Yet, fear of the unknown kept her driving. There would be time to talk.

Ebony paused, before adding, "Wait, are you the Quinn Morgan with Our World magazine?"

Yes, why? Quinn asked, startled.

I majored in journalism because of you.

Wait, you’re a journalist, too?

Not yet. I was in law school, when I was kidnapped. I admired, and wanted to be like you. I never thought that I’d meet you. This is crazy.

This is not the preferred way of meeting. The woman’s revelation set Quinn more at ease. If it would help you, I can call the police.

No! Ebony fidgeted in her seat. The police around here can’t be trusted.

Why?

Please don’t slow down, Ebony begged. Keep moving.

What’s going on?

Just drive. Ask questions later.

As they made their way down the empty road, Ebony kept checking the mirrors, and looking out of the windows. Follow the speed limit, and obey all the laws. You don’t want to be stopped.

It’s not safe, or are you wanted by the law?

I’m not a criminal. Women alone in a car at night are not safe around here. Get on the interstate, and don’t stop. We won’t be safe for a couple of hours, until we leave Texas.

The entrance to the interstate loomed ahead. A sense of relief washed over Quinn, when she drove up the entrance ramp. She wasn’t sure what she was afraid of, but Ebony’s warnings had put her on edge. Sweat formed on her brow, and she swiped it away.

Cruising down the freeway, she saw the sign for the hotel where she had reservations for the night. She had planned to rest, not drive nonstop. This woman had her rethinking her plans.

Don’t slow down, Ebony’s voice was still shaken.

Quinn’s gut sank from the intonation of the woman’s warning. She passed the hotel exit, without regret. Whatever was going on, she suddenly wanted to get away from it, as soon as this stranger. As a reporter, she had been in some life -threatening situations at home and abroad. Investigations often involved danger. Usually, she felt an adrenaline rush, not clawing fear. There was something about this woman, and situation that was different. A fear of the unknown overcame her. She had a gut feeling that there was more to this story than just human trafficking.

Where are you from? she asked. Ebony’s voice lacked a Texas drawl, as had her hers.

Detroit.

How did you end up down here?

Not by choice. Ebony sighed.

Then, how? Her reporter radar kicked in, and she awaited a tragic answer.

I was home in Detroit, on Spring break. Everything was fine, until I decided to walk to the drugstore, to fill a prescription. An SUV pulled up, and four guys with guns dragged me into the vehicle. It was black with tinted windows, and the doors and windows had automatic locks. I couldn’t get out. They took my purse, and bound and gagged me. I thought that I was going to be raped, or worse. She drew a deep breath, before continuing. Instead, we drove for hours and hours. They stopped for gas and food, and changed drivers. I wasn’t given anything to eat or drink, not even a bathroom break. I was kept handcuffed in back, like a piece of luggage. I wasn’t released, until we got … here.

Texas?

Ebony nodded. At the trophy farm.

Quinn turned briefly to face the woman. Trophy farm? You mean that creepy, game hunting sport business, the one with all the barbed wire electrified fences, facing the road? Where I found you?

One and the same.

Chills raced up her spine. Why were you kidnapped, and taken to a game farm?

Ha.

Quinn prepared herself for the answer. Putting the car on cruise control, she drew a deep breath, and sighed. She hated trophy hunters and game farms. It wasn’t fair that such operations were legal. There was something wrong about endangered animals being bred and held captive, only to be tracked and hunted by wealthy cowards. Innocent animals lost their lives, just to give someone the thrill of murdering a captive animal. Why did those with money believe that they were somehow entitled to take a life? The thought of it disgusted her.

Why were you kidnapped to work at a game farm? Was it more than just hunting?

Much more.

Was a sex ring involved, to pleasure the egos of the hunters? Sometimes, what she uncovered as a reporter was just a bit too sordid. She grew nauseous.

Shit, the woman said. Highway patrol coming up from the rear. She ducked low in her seat, until the officer rolled passed, and was out of sight.

What was that all about?

Would’ve looked too suspicious, a black woman riding with you.

Why?

You just don’t understand these parts.

There’s a great deal I don’t understand … like why you were wandering out in the middle of a deserted road … why you were scared shitless … and this story about being kidnapped, and taken to a game farm.

You’re a reporter, right?

Yes.

Do I have a story for you.

2

They were out of Texas, at last. The atmosphere in the automobile, once again changed. The farther away they traveled, the more relaxed the young woman became. Her gaze no longer scanned the windows and mirrors.

Thank you for appearing at the right time, Ebony said. You saved my life.

The kidnappers were going to kill you? Or, were the game farm people going to cause you harm?

She shook her head. The kidnappers just sold me. They took their money and ran.

It is a human trafficking ring, she murmured. Her hunch was right. Yet, there seemed to be much more to this woman’s story. Sold you?

To the game farm.

Is there trafficking for sex at game farms?

No sex. I wasn’t kidnapped for my body, at least not in a sexual way.

Why were you sold to a wild animal hunting ground?

The woman waved her hands. There are no wild animals at that game farm.

Excuse me? Quinn was getting confused, yet her throat grew constricted. Something wasn’t right.

Animals are not hunted there. Humans are.

Quinn had the urge to brake the car to a screeching halt in the middle of the highway. Her head was spinning, and her heart raced. This was preposterous. What the hell?

Humans? Not lions, elephants, or giraffes?

Humans. The billionaires, who are members of the private game farm, pay to trophy hunt humans, for sport, Ebony said in such a matter-of-fact way that it chilled Quinn to the bone.

Oh my God!

Oh my, yes. I escaped before they could kill me.

Quinn had to wrap her head around this, while keeping her eyes on the road. You’re saying that humans are trophy hunted on the game farm?

Yes. Traffickers from around the country are paid bounties to kidnap people to supply human targets. All those missing persons in the news, are not really missing. They have been kidnapped. Supply and demand. No one is really safe.

Human targets? This was too insane to comprehend.

Men, women, and children. They especially love to hunt minorities. I guess it’s because they think they’re from Africa, like other exotic animals.

Who … who are these people … these hunters?

Rich, white men.

Why wasn’t she surprised? Rich, white men were the ones involved in human and sex trafficking.

Ebony added, Entitled rich men, who believe that they are superior to everyone else. They‘ve done everything, but kill. For a fee, they can live out their murderous fantasies. Too much money brings out the crazy.

I’m shocked, revolted. Quinn had to swallow to prevent bile from rising up in her throat to lurch. Why hasn’t it been discovered?

It’s protected. No one dares to reveal its secrets, if they value their life.

The police haven’t stopped it? she asked, though she knew the answer. Money always talked, and corrupted.

Ebony chuckled in a sad, depressive way. Everyone is paid off, and sworn to secrecy. Law enforcement protects it. After all, state and federal office holders, from mayors to Congressmen, even a Supreme Court justice, are members of the club. It’s not just billionaires. If anyone tries to stop it, they become target practice. That’s why it’s been going on for so many years.

How many years?

Ebony shrugged. Decades.

How long were you there?

A few months, I think.

How did you avoid becoming a victim?

Luck. Well, most of the hunted form tribes, to watch each other’s backs. They protect each other, and devise strategies to avoid the hunters. It’s stressful knowing that, though there are acres of forest and meadows, you’re fenced in, and that there are only so many places to hide.

How many people are held hostage there?

"I couldn’t tell. Maybe a hundred or more

. They keep replenishing the stock."

Her mind was reeling. The reporter brain kicked in, and she took mental notes. Her assignment was taking a decidedly dangerous turn.

Do others escape?

From what I know, not many. They try and fail.

You made it.

Ebony clenched her stomach, and began to whimper. Yes, I made it, but the others were left behind. If you didn’t pick me up, they surely would have captured, and returned me.

How did you escape?

I’m small. I dug a hole under a fence. Somehow, I slipped under without being electrocuted. I didn’t know where to go once I got out. The perimeter is patrolled regularly. How you drove down that road undetected, is a true miracle. You saved my life. I’m indebted to you.

Quinn’s eyes locked on to Ebony’s intense gaze. For a moment, she felt a kinship, a sisterhood to this woman. She owed her. She owed all the victims, an end to the corruption, secrecy, and murder.

You are indebted to no one. You are free. You can go back to Detroit, back to your family, and back to law school, Quinn said.

No. I won’t be kidnapped again. Nowhere is safe. Nowhere. She hugged herself.

I’ve uncovered some gruesome stories, but this one tops them all.

It’s all true. I’m telling the truth. Behind those fences, innocent people are being slaughtered for fun. All in the U.S.A.

Quinn had possibly come upon the biggest story of her career. Was losing her life over it, worth it? Who would believe her? One young woman wasn’t enough proof. One escapee could be written off as mentally ill. She never felt so empowered, and yet so helpless at the same time.

3

"I ’m sure you’re hungry. Let’s stop for a bite," Quinn said. Dawn was breaking, the sky lightening from indigo to blue. Her stomach was grumbling. She realized that she hadn’t eaten since lunchtime the previous day. Pure adrenaline was keeping her awake and alert. Ebony surely hadn’t eaten for much longer

Let’s do drive-through. I’m not ready to see people, Ebony said. Besides, I don’t even have shoes.

Micky D’s? Quinn asked, seeing a sign for the ‘Golden Arches.’

I haven’t had real food for so long, I’ve forgotten how it tastes, Ebony said. Tears began to form, and rolled down her hollow cheeks. Fast food would be great.

After ordering, and getting takeout, Quinn found a parking place in a crowded shopping plaza nearby. She handed Ebony a McMuffin and potato cakes, while she pulled out a platter of pancakes.

Oh, here’s your orange juice. Quinn handed her the cup.

Thanks. I’ve really missed orange juice.

Quinn took a sip of black coffee, and sighed. I need the caffeine. I haven’t slept in twenty-four hours.

Ebony scoffed. Normal at the game farm. You sleep, you die. Like wild animals, we had to take quick naps, and keep moving.

Quinn watched the girl sip her juice, as if it were rare champagne, and take a bite out of her sandwich, as if it were prime filet. She wondered what was going on in Ebony’s mind. As she bit into her own food, her stomach gurgled. She realized how hungry she had been. She couldn’t imagine how Ebony felt.

Oh, this is so good, Ebony closed her eyes, savoring the next bite.

What did you eat on the run? Quinn asked, feeling guilty about bringing up bad memories for the woman.

Anything we could find. Fruit from the orchards, mostly. Nuts and berries. We couldn’t hunt, and surely couldn’t roast anything without being caught. Some people who were not in great health, actually starved to death. It was awful. You have no idea how awful it was. Ebony looked up, eyes glazed in a faraway thought. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

Quinn already was shaken to the core over the revelations. She couldn’t imagine how much this woman had to endure and witness. The idea that humans were being hunted by fellow humans, for sport, was difficult enough. She had no doubt about this woman’s story being true. One look into Ebony’s eyes,, and she could see the terror and fear. Listening to the tremble in her voice, convinced her that this woman had been terrorized.

Can I get you more to eat? Quinn asked, realizing that Ebony had eaten every last crumb.

As much as I’d love more food, I’m afraid that it would make me sick. I should take it slow. I’m not used to eating, yet. She finished her juice. I was dehydrated.

So, what do we do next? I’m from New York City, and you’re from Detroit. I could get you back home. I’m sure your family is missing you. I need to get back to digest all of this, and figure out how to proceed.

If you try to investigate this further, and write a story, you’re going to end up dead, Ebony said, in a blunt way, that made Quinn pause. You can’t mess with the trophy farm. As I said, people in power protect it, even people in the media. You’re no match for them.

The others need to be saved, and there can’t be any more victims.

Ebony scoffed. Get real.

If I helped you …

Ebony cut her off. "Ever hear the starfish story? With all the starfish washed up on the shore, you throw one back in to the ocean. What’s the point? You can’t save all of them. Yet, to